Doctor Who: A Night To Remember
by Man-Man in a Box
Summary: The Tardis lands aboard the RMS Titanic on the night it sinks. With the pair declared stowaways, The Tardis mysteriously gone and just two hours before the ship sinks Clara and The Doctor must escape before they too lose themselves to the icy depths of the Atlantic... Is mostly a dramatic action/ adventure story but features a few Clara/The Doctor romantic elements.
1. Chapter 1: 101 Places To See

Doctor Who: A Night To Remember...

Chapter 1: 101 Places to See

Clara Oswald was bored. And that was a monumental feat for someone travelling on board the Tardis with the Doctor. There was always some new planet to explore, a new time period to waltz in or some bug-eyed monster leering down at them.  
And even when there wasn't, Clara could wander through the Tardis to her hearts content, exploring it's many nooks and crannies. She could go for a dip in the swimming pool, browse through the varied novels and tomes from across time and space that the library held or even play a game of golf on one of extensive courses with the Doctor, if he had time, that was. As Clara explored the seemingly endless rooms, corridors and surprises that the Tardis offered, the Doctor always seemed to busy himself. Checking statistics, tinkering with the console or retreating to his study to read or study a hologram of some strange new species.  
Clara was sitting on the new leather seat the Doctor had had installed in the console room. There never used to be a seat, before whenever Clara and the Doctor wanted to sit somewhere in the console room they would have to slouch on the steps or dangle their feet from the semi-balcony that stood above the time rotor room.  
She was leaning back, it was very comfortable, luxurious even, but before long she begun to fidget, tapping her fingers against her knee and leaning fowards, resting her head on her hands as she did so. She enjoyed being in the Tardis, the ship never ceased to surprise and amaze her, but she wanted to actually go somewhere! They had been relaxing in the Tardis for 4 days now, they hadn't landed since the whole incident with the robot King George I... The Doctor never was able to re-attach the head after the alien assassins slashed it off with a sword. They both managed to escape while the assassins were getting out of the palace and the robot double of George I fumbled with his rolling head.  
Clara begun to tap her foot against the floor of the control room, she opened her eyes and looked up at the Doctor. He was bent over the console, seemingly deep in concentration. A quick analysis of his mannerisms proved that wasn't the case, however. He too was fidgeting, although unlike Clara he had an outlet for it, that outlet was, of course, the Tardis console. He was switching off a series of colourful switches, before immediately switching them all back on again. He was pulling the monitor towards him, checking the readings on it, before pushing it away again. He repeated this process several times, Clara was observant enough to catch the fact that the readings never changed, not once... Clara now knew that if she begun to talk to him he wouldn't mind, so she opened her mouth and cautiously begun speaking.  
In a soft, quiet tone "Doctor?"  
The Doctor immediately looked up from his intense stare at nothing in particular and replied "Yes, Clara?"  
She replied quickly, speaking at that million-miles-per-hour tone she was so fond of "Can we go somewhere?"  
"Did you have anything in mind particularly?"  
Clara racked her brain quickly before replying "No... But there are still a few things in that book of mine that I'd quite like to go too. You know, '101 Places to See'."  
The Doctor looked elsewhere around the room, before speaking slowly, he didn't want to offend her with what he was going to say, after all, that book was an important thing to her. "But Clara... I don't mean to hurt you or anything but... That book's 'places to see' are rather boring. I mean, they're all on Earth, well, of course they're all on Earth but don't you want to see something a little more... Strange and exciting?"  
The Doctor started to wave his hands around animatedly, he had stood up and begun to look at Clara again.  
He continued "I mean, we could go to the Pyramids of Egypt or we could visit the Celestial Solar Flares of Akaria..."  
Clara walked over to the elevated section of the Console room that contained a series of cupboards and draws, there was a small wooden table beside them, that was were she had placed it last, and that was were it was. She walked up the stairs and picked up the treasured book. She knew the book word by word by now so she had no trouble finding the page she was after. She found the paragraph and began reading, she walked down the steps as she read out loud to the Doctor.

Of all the ships lost to the cruel waves of the ocean none is more famous then the RMS Titanic, which is the basis of what is possible the greatest- and most violent naval disaster that ever existed.

The first question the Doctor asked after she finished reading. "How are you meant to 'see' the Titanic, this book was first published years and years after it had sunk!"  
Clara snapped the book shut, placed it on the leather chair she was sitting on previously and replied "Oh, I don't know, you can't can you? That is unless you've got a machine that can travel in time to any second or year on any world..."  
The Doctor flashed a smile at her and gleefully bent over the console once more, this time he wasn't dully flicking switches up and down but instead he was doing a dance of excitement around it, pulling levers with enthusiasm and pressing little multi-coloured buttons like their lives depended on it. Clara still wasn't sure exactly what his final reaction to the suggestion was though. She tenderly walked up to him and asked "So, are we going?"  
The Doctor looked up at her and continued to grin as he replied "Oh yes, you bet we're going. I've never been to the Titanic, well, not the real one at least. I visited a flying replica of it in space, saw the making of the film twice and even starred as an extra in it but I've never, ever been to the real thing!"  
"Isn't it a bit dangerous though? I mean, the Titanic crashed into an iceberg, hundreds of people died, do we really want to see that?"  
"Well, um, no, but this is a time machine, remember? We'll only get there and leave in the days before it sinks, it'll be fine, provided nothing sinister shows up..."  
"Which is always does." Clara retorted.  
The Doctor was about to defend himself, he waved a finger at her before retracting it and admitting, in a quiet voice "Actually, that's a fair point."  
Clara giggled quietly before smiling back at him and bounding towards the console in delight, her fidgeting had ceased to be caused by boredom and had begun to be the result of excitement. Suddenly, after the Doctor pulled a lever up the whole ship began to shake and vibrant. The Doctor held on to the console while Clara retreated towards the balcony railing. She closed her eyes and mouth and tried to not vomit. It wasn't that she suffered motion sickness, just that she still hadn't quite got used to the Tardis's rocking back and forwards as the Doctor piloted it through the vortex. She heard the familiar wheezing and groaning sound of the Tardis preparing for a landing then all of a sudden the vibrations ceased to be. The Tardis had landed.  
The Doctor pulled the monitor towards him and checked the readings on it, he read it out-loud "1912, Middle of the Atlantic Ocean, Onboard the RMS Titanic. The time is around 11:00 AM. The weather is fine and sunny with a bit of a chill in the air, that means the temperature is around 19°C."  
The Doctor pressed one more button on the console and looked over at Clara, he was looking very smug indeed. Perhaps he was impressed at having landed the Tardis without any obvious or immediate problems. That was to be decided after they stepped outside however, and Clara could hardly wait. She ran up to the Doctor and grabbed him by the arm, she ran past the console and was coming up to the door when the Doctor stopped her in her tracks.  
"Wait!" He suddenly exclaimed.  
Clara turned around to face him and narrowed her eyes in suspicion "What?" She replied. "You might want to change your clothes first before you go out there..."  
"Why what's wrong with my clothes?" Clara immediately bounced back.  
In an effort to return the conversation back to a more pleasant pedigree the Doctor hastily attempted to correct what he had said. "Um, no, there's nothing wrong with them... I mean, you, uh, look very beautiful. It's just that you should change into something a bit more... 1912ish. We don't want the modern skirt to be invented 50 years too early."  
Clara looked down at her current, modern clothes and agreed with the Doctor. She walked out of the control room and begun following the signs to the wardrobe. The Doctor looked down at his own clothes and decided the bow tie and Victorian overcoat would suitably blend in. He was currently wearing his Victorian-era clothes, minus the overcoat. He walked over to the railing where he had thrown it last, picked it up and slipped it on.  
After a few more minutes of waiting Clara emerged from one of the Tardis corridors. Her hair was tied up in a bun with only a few loose curls falling onto her face. She was wearing a dark blue dress adorned with a complex pattern. The Doctor thought she looked rather similar to the time he had met her in Victorian London.  
He clapped his hands together and simply said "Good."  
Before opening the doors and stepping outside, Clara following him closely...


	2. Chapter 2: The Unsinkable Ship

Chapter 2: The Unsinkable Ship

Just a few quick words before the start of this chapter:  
Firstly, thank you everyone for reading, subscribing and even favouriting this story! I had no idea it would get this popular this quickly. I cannot express my utter amazement and thanks to everyone who has read this story so far. If you are enjoying it but feel it could be better in some places, why not leave a review? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! Secondly, at the end of this chapter the action heats up, so Clara and the Doctor will finally get involved in one of the most tragic naval events in history. Thirdly, I'd like to thank 'TheLibaryOfTheTardis and the first chapter of their story '101 Places to See' for inspiring this story, as well as the chapter one's title.

The first words that escaped from the Doctor's mouth were ones of joy and excitement. "Smell that Atlantic breeze!" He exclaimed as he looked out.  
They had landed on board the deck of the ship, towards the end of it's hull. The deck was covered in wood paneling and adorned with gold trimmed tables and chairs. The Doctor heard Clara giggle with delight and looked over at her, beaming as he did so. The air was fresh and cool, the wind whipped through the air and blew the Doctor's hair all over the place. Clara walked over to the railing of the ship, just to the right of a small series of life boats and looked out at the water. The Doctor followed her to the railing and begun to lean on it, he too looked out over the ocean, it was a dazzling sight.  
The chilly water was sparking with the light of the morning sun as the final fog of the night disappeared. The sun was shining bright through the nearly-cloudless sky, causing the ocean to be viewable as far as the eye could see.  
The Doctor enjoyed the view but he really wanted to see the inside of the ship, so he raised his right arm and looked over at Clara.  
"Shall we?" He asked.  
Clara took his arm and gleefully replied "I think we should."

As the two of them strolled around the deck of the ship they observed the relaxing first class passengers. Some of them were dancing, some of them were using primitive exercise machines, one thing they all had in common, Clara noticed, was that they all looked happy... A few of them were wearing formal wear, and strolling around the deck of the ship arm-in-arm just as the Doctor and Clara were.  
After a few more minutes of this, the Doctor asked Clara if she wanted to go inside the ship, she agreed with him and together they entered the first class dining halls and corridors. The walls were covered with vanished and intricate wood paneling. Only a few streams of sunlight were entering the corridors from the windows, as most of them were covered by a series of beautiful velvet curtains. This reminded Clara of a question she had been meaning to ask the Doctor.  
"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" She asked, a playful tone overtaking her narrowed, suspicious eyes.  
The Doctor once again struggled to answer the question. His eyes flicked around the corridor they were walking through as he awkwardly replied.  
"Well, um, you're certainly not ugly, are you?"  
Clara hadn't gotten the response she wanted, but she didn't pry.  
"There's a big difference between being 'beautiful' and 'not ugly', Doctor."  
The Doctor just ignored her and turned a corner, the sunlight that fell into the crimson corridors had begun to turn golden, it was nearing sunset already.  
Clara had noticed this too.  
"Blimey, sunset already, time certainly flies aboard the Titanic."  
The Doctor nodded and replied.  
"Actually, Clara, would you enjoy staying for dinner? I heard the famous À La Carte Restaurant does great dinners for first class passengers."  
Clara looked up at him and smiled "I think I'd like that." She replied.  
"Right, dinner should be heating up in another hour or so, if I remember the schematics of the ship correctly it should be situated somewhere around the Grand Staircase, near it's Georgian styled reception foyer."  
He dug into his overcoat pocket and retrieved a small, old looking map of the ship. He unfolded it and begun to scan it quickly, before finding the spot he was looking for.  
"There!" He shouted quite loudly, startling Clara in the process.  
He pointed to a large square room not far from were they were. He continued to tap it as he explained to Clara.  
"It's just off the Grand Staircase near B deck, you are free to eat any time you wish, dinner is reserved for first class passengers. C'mon!"  
He took her by the hand and begun to walk determinately through the corridors. They kept marching onwards until they came to a large staircase draped in the same colours and patterns that the corridors were. On the right of it was a large golden sign pointing passengers towards the restaurant foyer. Clara and the Doctor walked towards the door and opened it, stepping inside the small foyer. The atmosphere was intoxicating, to Clara at-least. Despite having been to just about every era on Earth so far, The Doctor seemed equally comfortable in every single one. He walked towards the greeter standing in front of a pair of grand oak doors and began talking him.  
"One table for two, no preferences as too were. I'll pay for both the meal and the table after the final course. Therefore credentials will be unnecessary until the time of purchase."  
The greeter was short and thinly built, he didn't look at all like the bouncers Clara was used to seeing in a modern restaurant back in London. He had a slightly tanned look to his skin and had a distinctive thick black moustache. He was wearing an extremely clean, stunningly bright white tuxedo with a black bow tie. When he replied to the Doctor, Clara knew she was right, he was Italian.  
"Si, signore, right this way, signore." He gestured towards the doors.  
The Doctor looked back at Clara, she was busy studying the small foyer. The walls and room were covered with yet more red velvet, several seats lined the walls, only two other people were in the foyer beside the greeter, the Doctor and her. They were a couple, the man was wearing an expensive tuxedo and had his hair slicked back, his skin was slightly tanned, he too looked Italian. The woman was wearing an expensive dress similar to Clara's own and had her hair tied up in an intricate bun.  
The Doctor could understand why she was studying everything in sight, but he didn't want to keep the greeter waiting.  
"Ummm... Clara?" He tentatively asked.  
Almost immediately after the sentence had escaped the Doctor's lips Clara turned around to look at him. She didn't reply instead she just watched as he jerked his head to the right. She nodded and the two of them walked beside the Italian greeter as he showed them to their table.  
As soon as they left the foyer Clara was immediately awestruck by the sheer scale of the restaurant. The ceiling extended high above both their heads, they were coated in Biblical oil paintings. They were much like those that were on the ceilings of those old British manors she had been on field trips to. Only, somehow, this was much more exciting then being guided by a historical expert around an old house with a bunch of kids. The room contained the same sense of atmosphere that the rest of first class did, only on a much grander scale. It was very busy, people were filling just about every table, one thing they all had in common though, was that they were all upper class and wearing clothes that showed just that, intricately detailed dresses and crisp, fine suits. Clara spotted a band of musicians, they too were wearing expensive suits, the music they were playing was flawless, beautiful even. It was from the likes of Puccini and Beethoven, the Doctor informed her. Were they the same band who apparently went down with the ship? Clara tried hard not to think about it, the very thought of them ending up floating lifelessly at the bottom of the ocean made her feel sick in the stomach. She decided to focus on where they were now, thinking about it wasn't going to change the fact that in a few short days it was going to happen. Eventually they arrived at a small, round table for two. It was adorned with a small candle and a single pink rose. The greeter slid the chair to the left out, Clara accepted it and watched as the Doctor did the same, the greeter didn't bother sliding his chair out for him, she noticed. The greeter bowed, the Doctor nodded and then he walked back across the restaurant, back towards the foyer.  
Clara looked down at the table, a single canvas printed, embroidered menu lay on the space of table in front of them each. They smiled at each other and both picked up the menu and opened it. Clara had a quick glance at the seemingly endless list of expensive dishes before her vision was side-tracked by the Doctor.  
Clara watched as he browsed the menu, which meant she saw the colour drain from his face in the process, what had he seen? The Doctor glanced up at the date before double-taking, his eyes narrowed to make sure what he was reading was correct. He took out the Sonic Screwdriver and waved it around in the air for a few seconds before flicking it up and checking the readings of it. He got up from his chair and bent down to the ground, placing one ear on the crimson coloured carpet. Clara watched him with an expression that was a mixture of bewilderment and caution. What had he found out?  
The Doctor didn't want to believe it, he had made a grave, grave mistake landing on this ship, taking Clara with him... He licked his finger and raised it up to the air, he would keep checking over and over again until these sources gave him the readings he wanted. After several more minutes that mainly consisted of checking the Sonic Screwdriver, tasting the air and listening to the floor the Doctor finally gave in and silently announced to himself that his worst fears had been realised. Clara watched him with a worried look on her face as he hung his head.  
She finally swallowed and gingerly asked "Doctor? What's wrong?"  
The Doctor sat down on his chair again, avoiding her gaze. He handed her his copy of the menu, still without making eye contact.  
She looked through it quickly and replied "I still don't understand, what's wrong?"  
The Doctor swallowed and finally looked up at her, "The date Clara, look at the date..."  
Clara began to raise her voice "What date? I don't see any..."  
Now she understood why he was so anxious.


	3. Chapter 3: A Vanishing Act

I'd like to thank everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed this story so far. Thanks for all your great feedback and keep it coming!

Chapter 3: A Vanishing Act

"April 14th, 1912..." Clara spoke under her breath.

She looked up at the Doctor and repeated, stammering slightly, "A-April 14th, 1912..."

The Doctor just nodded, he looked grave. The colour still hadn't returned to his face.  
He then stood up once more and watched as Clara imitated him. He took her by the hand and began to lightly jog away from the table, through the maze of tables and out of the restaurant door. For a while Clara simply let go of all her thoughts and just allowed herself to be pulled along by him, but then she realised something.

Speaking quickly, Clara tried to get her point out as soon as possible "What are we doing? Are we going back to the Tardis?"

They both rounded a corner and came out in one of the first class corridors. After a brief pause they began to jog again.

Answering her question, the Doctor simply replied "Yep."

"But we can't do that! I mean, you've got all this space inside the Tardis you could probably fit everyone on board this ship inside it! Why do we have to just run away and leave them to die? Why can't we save them?"

They had reached a set of stairs, they both ran up them. Once they reached the top they flung open the wooden double doors and stepped out onto the deck. It was sunset, the clouds were a glorious mix of vivid oranges and bright yellows. Several streaks of sun light were hitting the ship's deck in random places, but apart from that the Titanic was covered in shadow. A cool, light breeze was sweeping across the ocean, lowering the temperature and causing the Doctor's thick, dark hair to get in his face. He brushed one lock of it away from his eyes and began to walk across the deck to were the Tardis had landed. He noticed Clara had stopped holding his hand, he didn't even think she was walking behind him anymore. He didn't know or want to find out because he didn't want to look at her, he was afraid the conversation he didn't want to have would flare up again if he did.

Clara wasn't the giving-up-type though, when she wanted to know something she would keep asking until she did. The Doctor stopped walking and just stood on the deck, allowing the cool breeze to hit his face.

Then, he heard Clara's voice "Doctor... You still haven't answered my question."

The Doctor didn't turn around to look her, still he just stood on the deck, looking out at the ocean with an anxious look on his face.

Clara could only see the back of the Doctor's head now, nevertheless, she soldiered on with her argument "Why can't we? Why can't we save everyone on board or prevent it from ever happening? That's what you do, isn't it? You save people. Of course you do, you're the Doctor. So why aren't you now? What's changed?"

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair once over, before turning to face Clara. She looked stern, but sad as well. Her brown eyes had a sense of... Sorrow to them, like they knew what they were possibly going to see soon and they were preparing for it.

"Clara... The sinking of the Titanic is one of humanity's greatest historical events, it's quite possibly the greasiest maritime tragedy in Earth's history and it will remain that way for thousands of years to come, we can't change that."

Clara was confused now "But... Why can't we change that? Time can be re-written, can't it? You said so yourself..."

"The book of time can be re-written, yes, but not today, not one line."

Clara was getting frustrated with him now. "Why not?!" She raised her voice as she spoke.

The Doctor hung his head before looking up to her and finally telling her, she was bound to find out some day, just like Donna once had.

He answered her question, at-last. "There are fixed points through time that must always stay the way they are, you cannot change them. Changing history in subtle ways is different because it doesn't have a major effect on a large number of people but this is the complete opposite of subtle! History says that at 11:40 PM the RMS Titanic collided with an iceberg and sunk beneath the surface of the ocean 2 hours later, if we change that it will only make things worse!" The Doctor was waving his hands around enigmatically as he spoke.

"How!? How could saving these people make anything worse!?" Clara was still very confused and frankly rather upset that the Doctor would just walk away when he had the opportunity to save lives.

"Newton's third law, Clara. Every action must have an equal or opposite reaction. In this case, if the Titanic tragedy never occurred then White Star Line and the rest of the world's Ocean Liner manufactures would continue go along thinking that it's okay to have only enough life boats to support the rich. They would continue to think that it's okay to only check their radar for large objects every half an hour. Humanity learns from it's mistakes, Clara, that is one of it's greatest strengths. Yes, the disaster that is about to occur on board this ship was terrible but it was just as important as the moon landing or any other major historical event in Earth's history. If the Titanic never sunk then thousands more lives would be lost in the future then were ever lost here. Do you see now Clara? No, I don't like just walking away but sometimes it's... For the best. For the greater good."

Clara still looked slightly upset, her brown eyes weren't focusing on the Doctor but instead she was looking over his shoulder. At first the Doctor just thought she was trying to take in everything he had just said and therefore wasn't truly focusing on anything. He could understand if that was what she was doing as he often did it himself, when he trying to think he would often just shut off his eyes to reserve brain power. Then he realised were she was looking, he turned around quickly and looked at the spot her eyes were attached to. It was the spot were he had landed the Tardis. It looked the same as it had a few hours previously. The only difference was: this time there was no Tardis.

It was gone, the Tardis was gone. Several hours ago it has situated on that exact spot, the spot that both the Doctor and Clara were now staring at with an intensity. Clara could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, she could feel the life drain from her body, it was flowing down the plug-hole of shock. After what felt like an eternity of doing nothing but staring, dumbfounded, at the spot the Tardis was just a few hours, the Doctor finally broke the silence.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no..." As he trailed off he brushed his fingers through his hair and crouched down. Clara watched him, eyebrows raised, he appeared to be studying the wooden floorboards of the deck.

Clara kept watching, her eyebrows still raised as he gingerly raised one hand and slowly moved it closer to the spot were the Tardis previously stood. He kept moving it closer and closer before suddenly stopping. He retracted it immediately and stood up, muttering under his breath and scratching his head.

He spoke again, although this time it was intelligible, "Well... It's not just invisible, it's definitely not there."

Clara racked her brains, anything she could do to help, she would do. As much as she disagreed with the Doctor and his 'laws of time' she didn't want to die on board the Titanic. She remembered something that she thought could be useful and mentioned it to the Doctor "Could it be the HADS?"

The Doctor didn't look at her, he was too focused on the spot were the Tardis had been, he had taken out the Sonic Screwdriver and was activating it in short bursts while waving it around the spot. The Doctor replied "The Hostile Action Displacement System? Nah, I disabled it after that incident with that Ice Warrior and the Russian Soviet Submarine."

He flicked the Sonic Screwdriver up and checked the readings. He then continued to wave it around in short bursts, still talking to Clara as he did so "From the looks of things something has attached a teleportation device to the outside of the Tardis and then remotely activated it, causing it to lift the ship up and transfer it to a place of the device operators' choosing. In short, someone has stolen the Tardis by teleporting it away... Worst still, some teleportation devices leave energy signatures, including this one. That's what I'm tracking with the Sonic right now. Judging by these readings I'm getting the teleportation device is of Collector origin."

"Collectors? What are they?"

"A race of scavengers. They use their highly advanced technology to travel to any point in the universes' past, normally they go for the wreckage of a city after a war or a ship wreck. Once they've landed they use any means necessary to loot the site of any valuables they can find, they then sell these on the Galactic Black Market. The thing that makes them different to any other inter-galactic looters in the galaxy is the fact that they have the technology to travel to the past, allowing them to acquire extremely rare and valuable items that probably don't even exist anymore in the time period they came from. They probably came here because of the Titanic, they were planning on looting the wreck, it seems they got the right spot but the wrong time. I'm guessing their scanners picked up the Tardis and they immediately went for it. Like an Eagle swooping down on it's prey."

He started to wave the Sonic Screwdriver in the air, it made it's normal noise before suddenly changing to a high-pitched, almost screech-like frequency. Clara clapped her hands over her ears and began to cringe.

The Doctor had to yell to get above the noise, "UGH! I'VE GOT A LOCK. IT SEEMS THE TARDIS WAS LIFTED DIRECTLY UPWARDS, INTO THE SKY!"

He pointed the Sonic Screwdriver away from the sky and watched as Clara facial expression changed almost immediately. It went from one of pain and annoyance to one of relief.

The Doctor breathed heavily out and continued "The Collector's... They've got a ship up there, in the space above Earth. The Tardis is on it, we need to get to it."

Clara leaned against the ship's railing and looked up at the sky, the final rays of sunlight were disappearing and being slowly replaced by stars.

She too breathed out heavily and replied "And how are we going to do that?"

The Doctor walked towards her and tapped her once on the nose with his index finger before he began to explain. "Well, we're going to take advantage of one of the limitations of Collector technology. To beam an object like this up into the sky you need to first equip the object with a beacon, otherwise it's nearly impossible for the scanners to get a good lock on and activate the process. Which means..."

He paused, he was waiting for Clara to finish his sentence. He liked it when she did that, it gave him a good reason to congratulate her.

Clara was sharp. She knew what he was up too, and she replied accordingly "...This was an inside job..."

The Doctor pointed his index finger at her as he continued "Exactly. Now, to find the Collector on board this ship, persuade him to give us back the Tardis and then, well, bob's your uncle." He clapped his hands together and turned back to Clara.

She smiled at him and placed her hands on her hips as she replied "Right, well, this shouldn't be too hard. What do these 'Collector' things look like?"

"They're giant bug-like creatures with four glowing eyes and green, scaly skin." He said it so calmly. Which was easy enough to understand, after-all, he was so used to seeing these things.

Clara nodded slowly and replied cheerfully "Well, it should be easy enough to spot then."

"Ah, but that's the other problem, it won't be. The Collector's have the technology to shape-shift, it could be anyone or anything."

Clara just sighed, the situation on board the ship was getting more and more complex every minute.


	4. Chapter 4: The Crime Lord

Chapter 4: The Crime Lord

Quite a long chapter, I hope you enjoy it and if you do: Follow, review and maybe even favourite! (If you really, really love the story.) I don't own Doctor Who, although sometimes I wish I did!

"So why are they called Collector's?"

"Think about it Clara, they dash around time and space picking up odds and ends..."

"But that can't be the name of their whole species."

"It wasn't, before they became scavengers it wasn't. Before the war with the Skacions they had a name, a proper name. No-one knows it though because anyone who was alive 1000 years ago is either dead or dying by now. The Collectors were once a proud, democratic species. The reach of their empire once extended across the whole Kafher region... But then they went to war with their closest neighbouring species: The Skacions. The war was long and brutal, but the Skacions ended it after decades of conflict when they released a virus their scientists had been cooking up for years... The virus worked much like the Plague once did back on Earth. It slowly killed anyone who was infected and was highly contagious, and on-top of all that, it only affected the Collectors. The plague spread throughout the galaxy, infecting and eventually killing every Collector it came into contact with, which was well over 90% of the total population. Those that managed to survive it became salvagers, using what was left of their advanced technology from their once-great civilisation to scour the galaxy in search of valuables, hence the name. Now, If you'll excuse me, I'm still trying to identify the Collector who helped steal the Tardis..."

"Right, sorry..." Clara looked slightly sheepish. She didn't know the Doctor was concentrating so hard, couldn't he just wave the Sonic around and find the person? If he did that it would probably rip a hole in the universe or something, she didn't dare ask. She did feel bad for bothering him but she was just so interested in these Collector... Things.

She did love a story, her mother always used to read her one before bed. It was one of the reasons she always loved travelling, because she got to see these new places full of stories and history that she could try and piece together. The Doctor, he was so wise, so full of history and stories, she loved hearing what he had to say, even if sometimes he himself didn't.

The pair of them were standing in a corner of the À La Carte Restaurant, the tables were even more full then they were the last time the Doctor and Clara had been there. There was an air of melancholy surrounding the room as Clara looked at the patrons talking and laughing. In addition to that, the air was also full of smoke, probably from the many cigarettes, cigars and pipes that were all being lit up and smoked at the same time. The smoke carried the scent of tobacco, which Clara thought was the twelfth most disgusting thing on the planet, being beaten to the spot of number eleven by Whiskey.

Clara glanced over at the Doctor, he had retrieved some strange electronic device from the inside of his coat pockets, and he was now preceding to wave it around unpredictably in the air while making calculations, pressing buttons and muttering underneath his breath.

Clara's absent-minded staring session at the tables was cut short by the Doctor, who shoved the device in her face, pointing at the screen. The device was showing Clara a picture of a man with slicked-back, dark brown hair and tanned skin. It was showing her the same man she had seen before, back in the restaurant foyer.

As the Doctor's fingers moved around wildly, he explained to Clara what she was seeing. "There, I think I've found him, his name is, was, Raphael Gillenti. He was head of the British branch of the Italian Mafia and was apparently heading to New York to start a new life dealing in some more... Legal matters."

"What do you mean by 'his name was Raphael Gillenti'?"

"Well, I'm assuming the Collector who is now using his face didn't walk up to him and ask for his permission, I'm guessing the real Raphael Gillenti is long dead... It's easier that way, and most humans don't willingly give a sample of their blood to an Insectoid alien."

"And how do you know this guy is the Collector?"

"Well, I've used this device to take a super high resolution photo of him now, and then compared it side-by-side with the one it has stored on its' database, taken before Mr Gillenti boarded the Titanic with his wife."

He pressed a few more buttons and held it up to Clara as the screen showed a side-by-side comparison of two photos featuring Gillenti. One which Clara assumed was his passport photo (as it was taken straight on and with a plain white background) and another one taken in the last few minutes. Clara watched as the device zoomed into his neck on both photos.

"See the difference?" The Doctor asked.

Clara scanned both photos quickly with her eyes, it didn't take long for her to notice the difference between his neck. In the first photo (the photo on the left of the screen) his neck was completely clear of any deformities. In the second photo there were two large red blotches covering about half of the skin on his neck, they looked like birthmarks.

Clara nodded "Yep, why does that make him a Collector now though?"

"The body-morphing process isn't perfect, it often makes small and subtle mistakes, the blotchy red skin is a common one."

Clara watched as the Doctor flicked a switch and the screen changed to show just the first photo, on the right side of the screen was a large text box displaying several vital statistics such as his age, occupation and height.

"So, how are we going to get the Tardis back from him? I doubt he'll just flick a switch and beam it down to us."

"Well, you're lucky you've got the man who trained Sherlock Holmes on your side..."

Clara rolled her eyes "Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character, remember?"

The Doctor countered, sounding slightly offended "No he isn't. He's real and he received his wonderful powers of observation, deduction and persuasion from yours truly." After he finished he did a little bow before reaching deep inside his inner coat pocket and retreating a pinstriped bowler hat, before flicking it around and placing it on his head.

"What is that?" Clara never ceased to be shocked by the Doctor's terrible dress sense, at-least by her standards. He thought everything strange or out-dated was fashionable.

The Doctor responded, seemingly unfazed. "It's a bowler hat of course, bowler hats are cool. If you're planning on convincing someone you're a gangster then dress like a gangster."

"Wait, you're going to try and convince Gillenti that you're a young man who wants to join the Mafia?" Clara was slightly worried, these were people who weren't to be messed with, if the Doctor annoyed them enough they would probably lock him in a room and attempt to tear his fingers off one-by-one...

The Doctor replied "Yes. Now, wish me luck..."

"You're going to need it!" She cheerfully called to his now-retreating figure. She was only half-joking though, if he wasn't careful around Gillenti the man... Thing... Whatever-it-was would probably call his cronies down upon the Doctor to 'teach him a lesson.' Clara stayed standing in the corner of the room by the pot-plant as the Doctor marched determinately across the lavish, expensive and busy room. She put her hands on her hips as she watched him, she just hoped that they wouldn't soon be clasped over her mouth in shock.

The Doctor had left the device he had used to identify Gillenti next to were Clara was standing. It was lying on the rim of the pot, still turned on. She picked it up and had a quick look over Gillenti's bio. According to the device the real Gillenti had ordered the death of several people, usually British, who had gotten in the way of the Italian Mafia and their plans. Including Police commissioners and high-ranking members of the British parliament. He had been involved in hundreds of criminal acts in the UK over the last 12 years, from drug trafficking to prostitution. Apparently he had owned a men's club back in London, which worked as both a steady source of income and a base for all his illegal dealings. Just a few weeks ago he had given the club and his title to his son, withdrawing all his shares ad savings from the bank and using them to buy a first-class ticket to New York on the Titanic. He was with his wife (who Clara guessed was the woman he was quietly talking too back in the foyer) and was apparently looking to 'start a new life.'

The bio ended there, Clara assumed that was the last shred of information the device picked up on him before he was killed, his identity stolen... Mr Raphael Gillenti was a terrible man, a crime lord and a violent person, but even he didn't deserve the presumably terrible fate death had chosen for him. This Collector who was masquerading as him, Clara presumed he was just as violent a person as the real Gillenti had been. She silently wished the Doctor luck once more and watched as he tapped Gillenti on the shoulder.

Gillenti turned around, his dark brown eyes seemingly looking deep into the Doctor's soul. "What do you want?" He snapped in a half-Italian, half-British hybrid of an accent that sounded polite, yet intimidating at the same time. He was about 40 years old, but he was nevertheless tall and muscular. Despite his impressive and intimidating figure, the Doctor wasn't scared by Gillenti, well, not yet he wasn't.

The Doctor straightened his red bow tie and responded cheerfully. "Hi, I'm a young upstarting gangster with Italian heritage and I would like to join your group of people with... Questionable morals and a very snappy dress sense. Nice bow-tie by the way, because bow ties are, and always will be, cool..."

He smacked his forehead with his hand as if he was scolding it, muttering under his breath as he did so "Damn, look at me, I'm rambling..."

Gillenti eyed him suspiciously before replying, in a chilly tone, "I am no longer involved with the Italian Mafia, now, please sir, remove yourself." He dismissed the Doctor with a wave and turned back to the table he was standing over before the Doctor had interrupted him.

"Wait. Wait!" The Doctor wasn't going to let him get away that easily. He raised his voice and continued, speaking quickly. "Perhaps we can make a deal, perhaps you can give me the names of those other gentlemen, the men who are currently in control of the American Mafia, then I can get in contact with them!"

"Get him out of my sight." Gillenti made a gesture towards the two men in suits who were flanking him on either side, the Doctor assumed they were his bodyguards.

Before he had time to think about it though, two pairs of rough hands grabbed both his arms and began to drag him away from Gillenti. He tried to resist but their grip was too strong, he slumped down and watched as Gillenti became a smaller and smaller figure in the distance. He looked up at the owners of the rough, strong hands. One of the bodyguards (the one on his left) was large and well-built. His jaw alone looked like it was strong enough to smash a block of thick wood if the man tried hard enough. The man on his right was, by comparison, rather slender. He was wearing tinted glasses and was very pale. Both of them were strong, silent and had shaved heads.

The Doctor looked forwards again, several passengers had turned from their meals to look at the Doctor being dragged away from Gillenti. The men just watched, the women gasped and the children just laughed.

Then, something strange happened. Gillenti turned back around, looked at the Doctor once more, before calling out to the bodyguards "Stop! Release him!"

The bodyguards did as Gillenti ordered and violently threw the Doctor to the ground. He stood up, rubbed his left cheek (it had been slightly burned by the friction) and straightened his overcoat. He then walked forwards towards Gillenti and stood in front of him, making eye contact and leering down at him. The Doctor was to make himself look intimidating, he wasn't sure if it was working or not.

Gillenti simply said "Come with me." And began to walk through the restaurant, towards a door that lead into a first class corridor.

The Doctor followed him, with the two bodyguards taking up the rear. Once they reached the corridor Gillenti looked left and right to make sure the four of them were alone before stretching out one arm and flexing it. The Doctor watched as the skin on the arm began to bubble and boil, like wax above a flame. He watched as Gillenti's arm reformed itself into a large, green and scaled crab-like claw. Gillenti waited for the process to complete before striking. He forced the claw onto the Doctor's neck, pushing him back into the closest wall and causing his hands to grasp his throat.

Gillenti spoke, not in the same polite-yet-cold accent he had used before, but in a gurgling, raspy tone, he spoke using the voice of a Collector. "I've scanned you, you have two hearts yet you're humanoid, which means there is only one species you can possibly be..."

The Doctor could feel the claw push against the skin and muscles covering his throat. It was squeezing it, making it difficult to talk. He managed to choke out a few words "Yes... I-I'm here for the T-Tardis... The one you p-picked up and attached a teleportation beacon too..." The Doctor could feel what air was left in his lungs run out, his vision became foggy. He couldn't breath properly and his body was telling him that. His hands grasped for his neck again but all they could feel was a large, scaled claw.

After what felt like an eternity of slowly becoming breathless, Gillenti released him and he fell to the floor. He hung his head and tried to breath in, within seconds his vision was cleared, although his back was still quite sore. He stood up but was immediately tackled to the ground by one of Gillenti's bodyguards, his head was forced against the floor, skewering his vision.

He could hear Gillenti speak to the other bodyguard, he was using his human voice again. "We're going to take him down to the third class security office and interrogation room, tell them he's a stowaway and then help them get information from him. If he really is a time-lord then he has a lot to answer for...

The bodyguard who has holding the Doctor down pinned his arms behind his back, causing him to gasp in pain and the Sonic Screwdriver to fly out of his breast pocket and slide across the carpet, down the corridor. As if on cue, Clara appeared from around the far corner of the corridor, her eyes flew open in surprise as she examined the scene in-front of her.

He got her attention by yelling across the corridor quite loudly "Clara! Clara! I've found our Collector! The Sonic is just on the ground in-front of me, you can't let them take it! Grab it and run. JUST RUN!"

The bodyguard forced his face into the carpeted ground to try and silence him. He could still see slightly though, and his cone of vision was large enough to observe Clara's feet shuffling towards him, before her hand bent over and picked up the Sonic Screwdriver. She then made haste, dashing down the corridor and out of sight.


	5. Chapter 5: The Art of Persuasion

Chapter 5: The Art of Persuasion

Hope you enjoy this chapter, it sets in motion events that will shape my future Doctor Who stores... Remember to review if you think it could be improved and follow/favourite if you like it!

The bodyguards were once again guiding him along a certain path, their tight grip enclosed around his elbows. Whenever he tried to turn away and possibly escape they would force him away from the direction he wanted to face, often slamming him into the wall and causing him pain in the process.

As a party of four, they marched through what felt like an endless maze of similar corridors and stairwells. The only thing that differentiated each one was the overall style. The first class corridors were lavish and beautifully crafted. The second class corridors were wood-panelled and carpeted in a similar way to the first class ones. The third class corridors were tiled and sterile white, the furniture looked uncomfortable and was mainly made of Cain.

As they delved deeper below deck the Doctor noticed the temperature rise marginally, this was probably due to the fact the third class corridors were fitted with basic radiators and heaters. The Doctor also noticed the gentle rocking of the boat gliding over the icy water increased as they headed closer to the engines.

Eventually the Doctor found himself being led down a small and narrow set of stairs. He glanced to his right to see a sign directing anyone who walked down them to the 'third class security office and interrogation room'.

"A bit down-market, Gillenti... I thought the first class security office would be more 'you'. Beating someone in style..." He looked across his shoulder at Gillenti as he spoke.

"The third class security office is the only one with an interrogation chamber." Gillenti dryly responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

They reached the end of the stairs and the Doctor found himself standing in-front of a shabby and cluttered security desk. A typewriter took up most of the space on it. It itself wasn't in a good shape, the paint was peeling off and it looked like it had been dropped a few times over. The other part of the small desk was taken up by scattered pens, pencils and paper. A small space had been cleared in the middle of all the stationary. Directly opposite to this space was were a young man was sitting. The man looked no more then 20, his hair was brushed to one side of his face and he looked weedy and inexperienced. He was wearing a basic uniform consisting of a simple white shirt (with the White Star Line logo printed on the breast) and black trousers.

He looked up at the tall, menacing figure of Gillenti and asked, in a timid voice. "Ummm, yes, sir? What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to speak to your superior." Gillenti sneered down at him.

"That would be me." A gruff, croaky voice spoke.

All five of the men standing in the room followed it to the doorway that led to the interrogation room. Standing in the doorway was a much older man, he had a scruffy white beard and rolled up sleeves. He was practically the polar-opposite of the young man sitting behind the desk.

The older man recognised Gillenti at once. "Ahhhhh, Mr Gillenti, how nice to see you. Need this young gentlemen ruffed up a bit?" He did a little half-bow as he spoke, before snapping back to attention as soon as Gillenti began to walk towards him. The Doctor guessed Gillenti was controlling him, either through fear, bribery, or a combination of both.

The two bodyguards followed Gillenti as he walked towards the interrogation room. They pushed the Doctor out in-front of them, finally giving him control of his own body for the first time in what felt like ages. He rubbed his sore elbows and looked forwards at the scene in-front of him.

Gillenti replied, addressing the older man. "Actually, I'll be doing the ruffing up today Mr Linch. I'd appreciate your co-operation, however."

Linch replied, gesturing towards the interrogation room as he did so. "Of course, sir. This way, sir..." He moved out of Gillenti's way and began to talk quietly to the young man.

Gillenti nodded towards the bodyguards and the four of them moved into the room, closing the door behind them.

The room itself was small and unpleasant. The walls were covered head-to-toe in fresh white paint, and a single uncomfortable-looking wooden chair stood in the centre of the room. It was illuminated by a singular bright electronic light bulb and apart from that, there was no furniture.

"I assume that's for me?" The Doctor asked, gesturing towards the chair.

Gillenti nodded and he slipped off his overcoat, throwing it into a dark corner of the room and carefully sitting down on the uncomfortable chair. He leaned back and looked Gillenti in the eye, before speaking. "So, you've got third class security in your pocket. Because I'm guessing you guys aren't naturally best buddies."

One of the bodyguards (the tall, thin one) began to speak. His British accent was surprisingly thick. He addressed the Doctor. "You know, you need to know when to shut your mouth." With this he thrusted his fist deep into the Doctor's stomach, knocking the wind out of him in the process.

Falling off the chair, the Doctor doubled over on the floor, trying to breath in-an-out. The floor was cold and hard. As he rested his head on it, the Doctor could feel the faint rocking of the ship. He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as his thoughts were interrupted by a kick to the chest. The force caused him to topple over and lay on his back, his breath was knocked out of him once more.

He repeated the process of carefully breathing in-and-out again, and this time he managed to complete it uninterrupted. His chest and stomach were both quite sore, but he managed to prop himself up against the wall using his arms.

He breathed out heavily and looked up at the trio of men in suits, they were standing over him like guardian angels, or, in this case, sadists and suppresses. The pain in his chest had become a dull ache, every-time one of his hearts would beat he would feel it.

Staring once more into Gillenti's cold, dead eyes, he spoke. "You're trying to scare me away, you're afraid I'll blow your cover..." His voice was hushed and tired, it sounded like a weaker version of his usual tone.

Gillenti just nodded slightly. The Doctor replied "I don't understand. If you want to get me out of the way, why don't you just... Kill me?"

"I know who you are. You don't fear death. And I'm not just 'getting rid if you', I want information."

"Trade you information for my Tardis?" The Doctor offered.

Gillenti shook his head, before turning around and pointing a large finger at the Doctor. "You're not in a position to make bargains, my friend. I'm in control here, I will beat you until you're begging for the luxury of regeneration. Then, I'll let you heal, before beating you once more. And I'll repeat the whole cycle all over again and again until you tell me what I want to know!" After he finished he spat in the Doctors' face, before turning his back to him once more.

The Doctor wasn't going to be beaten back that easily. "You don't have enough time to do that Gillenti. In three hours this ship will sink and you'll need to teleport back up to your Collector buddies anyway. No-one needs to get hurt, we can resolve this peacefully! I know a lot of secrets, I can tell you some if you tell me were to find the Tardis and give me the means to get to it!"

"The salvage of a lifetime, a working Tardis. We're not giving it up that easily. We want to know something, Doctor, and if you care about yourself you'll tell us what we want to know. And you'll tell us now." He lingered for a few seconds on that last word.

The Doctor mulled it over. He needed the Tardis to escape from the ship with Clara otherwise their chances of surviving were... Slim, to say the least. Whatever they wanted to know, he could probably tell them, within reason. He knew a lot of things, but if they weren't willing to bargain for it then he wasn't going to give it to them. He was a time-lord, he could take a beating. And even if he did die, he would regenerate and by the time that happened, Gillenti and his bodyguards would be long gone from the ship.

The Doctor eventually decided on a plan. He would avoid being too badly hurt and tell them what it was they wanted to know and then they would (hopefully) leave him alone for a bit. Allowing him to escape from the security office, meet up with Clara, and chase down Gillenti. He knew Gillenti was in possession of a wrist teleport, he could use it to beam himself up into the Collector ship (he presumed that was were the Tardis was) and then pilot it down to Clara's position. He decided that was good plan, and went too run with it.

"What do you want to know?" He asked, trying hard not to smile.

"Gillenti drew up the wooden chair and sat down on it, looking down at the Doctor. He replied. "My team and I have been encountering... Disturbances in the very fabric of reality itself. Rifts, cracks, tears in time, they show us what has been, what is and sometimes... Even what will be."

The Doctor was puzzled, he wasn't aware there currently rips in the universe. The last time he had encountered them he had closed them all up by re-booting the universe, if they were from the Tardis's explosion, they shouldn't even exist anymore. He was puzzled, but intrigued at the same time. He furrowed his brow, dropped his tone and asked "Were are you finding these rifts?"

"Everywhere, no matter were we go, they seem to be... Following us. Sometimes they show us things, other times they speak to us. Familiar voices, strange voices, voices that we haven't heard before but have floating in our memories..." He trailed off slowly. He wasn't looking at the Doctor anymore, his eyes were glassy and unresponsive, they were intensely staring at the floor.

"Hey, Gillenti!" The Doctor snapped his fingers and wave them in his face, eventually he gained Gillenti's attention once more and replied.

"You said, these rifts showed you things... Did they just show you random events in the universes' history or was it something in particular? Did they show you a certain planet or species?" The Doctor wondered whether the cracks were originating from a certain planet, if they were it would be easy to track them down and somehow pull the plug on them. If they weren't they were probably coming from a parallel universe and would therefore be a lot harder to contain. It didn't matter were they came from though, they sounded dangerous.

Gillenti shook his head before replying. "No, no particular people or places just familiar voices and green. Lots of green light..." He trailed off once more. Before he finished the Doctor noticed his voice become more aggressive and animal-like, the Collector inside him was attempting to tear down its' disguise and reveal it's true identity. It was like a caged animal, kicking and screaming in a vain and fruitless attempt at escape.

"There, I gave you the information you wanted. Now, give me the teleport." The Doctor didn't really want to end the conversation. He was interested in these rifts, but considering there wasn't much time left before the ships's fateful collision, perhaps it was for the best. He would have plenty of time to pursue the mystery of these tears in time once he got the Tardis and Clara back.

That one sentence snapped Gillenti back into attention almost at-once. He turned back to the Doctor and looked him in the eye, his eyelids narrowed. He straightened his suit up, smiled a cold smile at the Doctor before turning his back to both the Doctor and bodyguards, signalling the two cronies in the process. They both nodded and began kicking and punching the Doctor in all the places they knew it would hurt most.

A blow to the face caused his nose to become stained with crimson. A kick to the stomach made lay on the cold ground once more. Once he was on the ground, the barrage of violence continued. The bodyguards beat him relentlessly, causing his hands to move over different parts of his body as they experienced sudden bursts of pain.

After what felt like an eternity of seemingly endless torment, the bodyguards were ordered away from the Doctor's sore and limp body. He had lost the feeling of his legs and his face was bloody and cut. As he felt their shadows move away from the light that illuminated his almost lifeless corpse, he went to stand up, or at-least lean against the wall once more. But his arms failed him within seconds, and before long, he was back on the ground, lying in a pool of his own blood.

He closed his eyes for his vision was giving him a very different kind of pain, the fog and haze that accompanied the failure of vision was closing in... The least he could do for himself was spare his brain the torment of observing it. As he closed his eyes his mind began to wander, he wondered were Clara was, what she was doing right now. He hoped she was safe, he had already lost her twice, he didn't want her to even get slightly hurt, he just couldn't bear seeing it. He loved having Clara around, and he felt like it was his responsibility to care for her. He had lost so many people, seen so much destruction, he wouldn't lose Clara, not this time. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact he had lost her twice before? Whatever it was, she was just too special and he was too devoted to her to even bear the thought...

His head started throbbing, so he opened his eyes once more. The thought of Clara in danger made his head stop spinning and begin to operate again. It gave him the courage, the strength to go on.

He began to stand up again, his body was weak, but he had to do it, for her sake...

His attempt at escape was quickly and furiously shut down by a particularly brutal kick to the face. He could feel a sharp pain hit his head and then, his body finally gave up, and everything turned to black...


	6. Chapter 6: The Tilted Room

Chapter 6: The Tilted Room

The Doctor could hear muffled voices, but yet he could not see where they were coming from...

Every-time he tried to open his eyes they stubbornly remained firmly shut. His head was hurting and spinning at the same time, it was disorientating, to say the least. His whole body was sore, from his arms, to his chest, to his legs. But at-least it didn't feel as bad as it did before he was knocked out.

He was slowly but surely regaining consciousness, one-by-one his bodily systems woke up from their coma and began to operate again. He could hear, smell, feel, but yet he couldn't see, his eyes refused to open themselves.

The final push that threw the Doctor back into the world of the living was an almighty rumble. He could hear it, and feel it, his body swayed back and forth helplessly.

After he felt the tremor, he opened his eyes almost immediately too see a skewered and foggy version of what appeared to be the security offices' white ceiling. His vision was pulsating, moving in and out of focus every second he used it. Another tremor caused the Doctor to lose his footing (wherever it was) and stumble.

But he didn't fall to the ground. Instead, he felt his arm being tugged suddenly to one direction. He then opened his eyes to see his legs dangling above a small pool of water. After seeing this he almost immediately looked around to find out where exactly he was, why he appeared to be floating above it, and where Gillenti was.

As he craned his neck and looked around the room, he noticed it appeared to be titling to one side. At first he thought it was because of his head aching and his vision changing randomly, but then he realised the room was actually on an angle. It didn't take him long to piece together the puzzle. The water covering the floor, the rumbling sounds, the tremors, the titled room- The ship had collided with the iceberg.

The Doctors' head was still aching, he went to place one hand on it but was impeded by an unknown force. He glanced over at his hand to see why he was dangling. One small pillar held up the roof, the pillar in question was attached to the now-long-abandoned and still-cluttered desk. A silver pair of handcuffs were chaining his arm to the pillar, his body must of been slumping against it and the desk when he was unconscious. Gillenti, the bodyguards and the two security men seemingly chained his beaten body to the pillar and left him to die as soon as they felt the tremors.

His arm was getting sore, and he needed to escape from the security room before the water encompassed it completely. The Doctor looked down, the chilly water was already sloshing around his knees.

The Doctor reached inside his overcoat pocket, but he could feel nothing. He desperately needed the Sonic Screwdriver right now, where was it? He frantically patted his pockets down, reaching inside them, pulling mundane and random objects out before discarding them almost immediately. After a few minutes of frantic searching, the freezing water was around his waist, and he was forced to admit the one thing he didn't want to admit- That the Sonic Screwdriver was gone.  
He remembered now, Clara had taken it so Gillenti and his men didn't get their hands on it. Where was Clara? Hopefully she was still above deck, she would be safe there for awhile yet now.

As for his own problems, well, things weren't going as well as he could have hoped. His arm felt like it was about to rip away from it's socket any second now. The cold Atlantic water was rising fast via a leak from below deck and his body was covered in sores.

In a desperate but ultimately pointless attempt at escape that amounted to nothing, the Doctor pulled on the handcuffs' chain, but they remained stuck in place. The Doctor looked around desperately, searching for anything that could help him escape from the handcuffs' grasp.

Several pens, pencils and other items of stationery that were previously resting on the desk were now floating on the surface of the water. The Doctor took a large breath, filling his cheeks with it, before diving down into the icy depths.

The room looked different underwater, it's sterile white paint glowed a pale, ghostly blue. He saw a screwdriver and a small clip floating together, he outstretched his free hand and clutched both of them firmly in his palm, before swimming back up to the surface.

As his head broke the water, he breathed deeply in, coughing and spluttering. Before holding the screwdriver and the clip up to the handcuffs' lock and beginning to pick it.

He turned the screwdriver around, clockwise then anti-clockwise, all while moving the pick in all different directions. As he worked, the water rose up to his shoulders, he was now fighting to keep his head above the surface.

The need to unlock the handcuff's was becoming more urgent, and he was running out of time. Another almighty roar was accompanied by the shop rocking back and forwards, shaking the Doctor around violently. He clutched his lock-picking tools and continued to work, after a few more seconds of desperate urgency, the lock clicked open, and the handcuffs' fell into the water, slowly sinking to the floor.

The Doctor flashed a brief smile to himself before taking another deep breath plunging back into the water. The still silence of the now-completely-flooded room was strange, it felt almost... Peaceful. He then remembered that this water was the very same water that thousands of people would drown in later that night, if they hadn't already. He pitied the crew who worked in the engines and boiler rooms, they would of been the first to go...

A floating chair knocked into his shoulder, causing the buried pain that his body currently contained to flare up once more. He ignored it and continued to swim, he was moving up the stairs now, he kicked and pushed through the current for a few more seconds, until his head broke the surface of the water once more. He shook his head, flicked his hair out of his eyes and looked up. He was standing in-front of the door that led to third class.

_Sorry, short chapter. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. Next time the Doctor and Clara will be reunited and the ship will continue it's journey to the dark ocean floor... Also, have I mentioned the fact that this story is becoming part of a series of 4 adventures? They're all going to feature the Doctor and Clara and will continue the Collector storyline, I would say more, but that would be spoiling it!_


	7. Chapter 7: Abandon Ship!

Chapter 7: Abandon Ship!

_Firstly, I don't own Doctor Who. Secondly, enjoy and remember to review if you think it could be improved._

Clara was gripping onto the stairwell's handrail so tightly her knuckles were going white. She had closed her eyes for no particular reason, they just shut automatically as soon as she felt the first tremor.

Now the ship had collided with the iceberg. Half of it's hull had been scraped off forcibly, hundreds of people were running in a blind panic through the soon-to-be-deserted corridors and the whole ship was slowly sinking beneath the waves of the Atlantic...

She knew third class would be a bad place to be. Anyone who was anyone was probably above deck by now, but she had to find the Doctor. She presumed Gillenti had taken him downstairs, what if they had knocked him out and the room he was in was sinking at that very moment?

Before she could dwell on that thought another almighty rock of the ship caused the railing she was gripping on to slip from her grip and before long she was falling backwards, down through the sizeable gap in the centre of the concrete stairwell...

She had only just begun to fall when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and pull her back over the rail. Her emotions went from surprise, to terror, to the sweet feeling of relief. She was breathing rapidly and her already sweaty palms had perspired even more.

She heard a voice whisper in her ear, it spoke in an excited tone that no other person could replicate. "Miss me?" The voice quietly asked.

Clara turned around suddenly to see the grinning face of the Doctor in-front of hers. Apart from perhaps that time she got lost in Blackpool and saw her mum, she had never been more happy to see anyone ever in her life. He had saved her. Of course he had saved her, who else would have saved her?

His arms were still around her waist, so she partially returned the favour by wrapping hers around his shoulders and burying her face into his chest. She closed her eyes and let the moment of joy soak in...

But then she realised something, the Doctor's clothes were very damp. She withdrew for a second and looked up at his beaming face. Several cuts and bruises were lined along his forehead, cheeks and rather prominent chin.

She furrowed her brow and mentioned these too him. "Your clothes are soaking wet, and what has happened too you?" She sounded sympathetic as she raised one cold hand to his bruised cheek.

He responded. "Ah, well, it's a long and not-very-pleasant story. Maybe another time?"

She nodded and he continued, taking his arms off her waist in the process. "Right, now, we need to get off this ship because it is sinking rather rapidly and I don't fancy going the way of the majority of the passengers. We need to get to the lifeboats and claim one for ourselves. C'mon." He squeezed her hand and began to run up the remaining stairs leading to second class.

They ran up the first flight before stopping suddenly, the Doctor turned around and faced her, his hands were waving wildly around, his fingers moving quickly as he spoke. "The Sonic, we need the Sonic first!"

Without replying, she smiled before plunging one hand deep into her dress pocket and retrieving the Sonic Screwdriver. She stretched out her am and gave it to him, asking as she did so "Miss me?"

He took the Sonic Screwdriver from her and pocketed it. Before reaching out his hands and bringing her face close to his. He replied in a whisper directed at her ear "Yeah, 'course." He then placed a kiss on her forehead, before smiling back at her, clutching her hand and continuing to lead her up the stairs in a dash.

They ran up the rest of the stairs, and then through the second class corridors, before dashing up yet more stairs. They never looked back, and Clara never asked anymore questions, there would be time for that later. The important thing to remember was this: They were getting away from this now-horrible place.

As they ran, Clara noticed that the corridors were oddly deserted, apart from the odd couple cradling a crying baby or the occasional eccentric English gentlemen who was pacing the carpeted rooms, muttering to himself as the world ended around him.

The chilling threat of the water had not yet caught up to them, it was still slowly flooding the downstairs corridors and rooms. Anyone who has still in third-class would surely be nothing but a lifeless body now...

One minor setback was the constant presence of sudden tremors that threw them off balance. One time causing the Doctor to lose his grip on Clara and smash into the wooden-panelled walls of second class. The flooding in the lower half of third class was causing the ship to become incredibly unbalanced, which Clara knew would eventually cause the whole thing too split in two and sink down into the dark depths of the ocean floor.

The slight tilt of the ship was getting steeper and stepper, making it harder to run without easily tiring. Clara just gripped onto the Doctor and didn't let go, she knew he knew where they were going, he had studied the ships's layout. Sometimes Clara wondered how the Doctor could fit all that random knowledge in his head.

Thinking back to before, she was so relieved he had found her when he had, otherwise she probably would've been dead by now... Somehow, she knew he would have found her, she knew he would save her, because that's what he did. He was the Doctor, he saved people. Clara understood why the Doctor couldn't prevent the disaster of the Titanic from never happening, but she still couldn't stand watching all the people onboard die while they flew off in the TARDIS. Actually, come to think of it, where was the TARDIS? She had presumed he had found it by now, but he had never explained where it was.

So she asked him. "Doctor, where's the TARDIS gone? You did get it back, didn't you?"

The Doctor didn't stop and look back at her, he just hastily replied, while sill running. "No, I'll explain later."

She just rolled her eyes and allowed him to pull her through a door, on the other side was a scene Clara had hoped they would never have to see...

They had arrived at a second-class balcony, it was crowded and unpleasant. Some people had clearly escaped from the now-flooded complex of third class, they were dressed in simple, cheap clothing and many looked damp, haggard and even injured.

The air was filled with a sense of dread, many of the men were being forced away by security officials in blue uniforms as their wife and children were dragged into life boats, screaming and crying. Clara guessed this was a by-product of the now-famous 'women and children first' policy.

Some had given up on the security officials and the lifeboats and had resorted to jumping over the railing, whether this was simple suicide or if they actually thought they would be able to swim away from the wrecked ship, Clara did not know. Nevertheless, the air was filled with the horrible sounds of their gurgling screams as they thrashed and froze in the freezing-cold water.

Every few seconds the shouts, screams and loud tones were hushed and paused by a deep rumbling sound coming up from the bowels of the ship. Often this sound would be accompanied by an awful, sickening titling sensation as the ship gradually rose up and sank on it's side.

Clara looked up from the scene surrounding her at the Doctor. He just stood there, a blank look on his face as his eyes darted around the large balcony.

Clara was horrified. What she was seeing, she did not know anymore... Her brain had shut off in disgust a long time ago, now she was just standing there, an empty vessel that her soul had given up on...

The world around her became a blur or colour and sound, the screams and shouts of her fellow passengers were muffled by her ears. It was as if her brain was doing this on purpose, as if it didn't want to see or hear the suffering...

She was thrown back into the real world by the sudden sensation of her eyes' watering. She rubbed her right eye with her hand and watched as a single tear fell off the tip of her eyelashes. She stared at the encapsulated tear for a moment, it lay in her palm like a limp, caged animal. She decided not to just stand there and switch off, she decided to do something about it, to end it all. She knew the Doctor couldn't save everyone, but she did know one or two things about time travel by now...

She cleared her throat and spoke up at the Doctor, gaining his attention almost immediately. "D-Doctor?" She stammered quietly and expelled a little cough as she began to speak.

He looked across at her, into her eyes. His pupils connected with her beautiful and gloriously brown irises. He replied, softly. "Yes?"

"I know, these people are going to die and we can't change that... But.." She tried to finish her sentence, but her stammer overcame her.

"But what?" The Doctor swiftly and quietly replied.

"But... Why can't we save someone. Not everyone, but, at-least, one or two people. I can't stand it... I-I can't put up with just standing here, knowing that everyone in-front of me is going to drown or freeze to death soon..." She barely managed to choke all those words out, she did it all in one hushed breath.

"I understand. And I'm sorry, Clara. I really, really am..." He gripped her hand once more and began to walk slowly towards the edge of the balcony's railing, a lifeboat was slowly descending past it.

Clara let go of his hand and walked by herself up to the railings edge. The lifeboat had almost reached them.

Clara turned back to him and replied. "Can't we just save someone? Just one! Please Doctor, just one of these people." She had raised her voice slightly and was now pleading to the Doctor, who didn't look at her or reply. He simply watched as the lifeboat descended.

Another tear rolled down her cheek, the lifeboat had reached them, there was space in it for just one more person...

Clara was finding it difficult to see in the curtain of tears that was shrouding her eyes. She could still make out the dark shape of the Doctor's solitary figure.

She raised her voice suddenly. She had to convince him, she couldn't bear it any more, he had to do something! "Doctor! Please, save someone..."

He finally turned around too her, replying as he did so. "I am."

With this he lifted her up via the waist and laid her down on the remaining space in the small wooden lifeboat. Before she had a chance to argue, he took out the Sonic Screwdriver, aimed it at the ropes attached to the lifeboat, and activated it...

The ropes snapped and the lifeboat fell a few metres. It safely landed on the surface of the cold, dark ocean, Clara onboard and the Doctor still standing on the balcony. With grim satisfaction, he turned on the spot and walked away from the scene in the ocean, the screams of the condemned still ringing in his ears...


	8. Chapter 8: Gillenti's Fate

Chapter 8: The Rueful Fate of Raphael Gillenti

_If any of you guys have an Instagram account, you can follow my official account at the username 'mad_man_in_a_box_productions'. There, you can find all the latest news on this series of Doctor Who stories, including a hint or two of what's to come..._

Clara Oswald was crying. Which was strange, for she wasn't the crying type. She liked to think of herself as being tough, able to take an emotional pounding and still come out on top with a witty remark. But right now, she was shedding tears like there was no tomorrow. Because, for some of her fellow passengers, there would be no tomorrow...

She was sharing the small wooden lifeboat with a young man in his late teenage years, a young woman who was about the same age as Clara, and an older lady who looked like she was in her 60s or even 70s.

The young man was wearing a now damp and extremely-creased tuxedo, he looked like he had come from nobility. The young woman and the older lady, meanwhile, were wearing simple and torn clothes made of cloth.

The young woman was trying to comfort the older lady, who was crying and howling into the night...

She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to block out reality. The stench of death was all around her, and it wasn't something she appreciated.

She was partially grateful the Doctor had saved her, that he had given her a chance to continue living. He could of taken that last space, or given it to someone else. But no, she should've known he would've given it to her, for that's what he did, he saved people. She just wished he had saved someone more deserving of the luxury of life then her.

She was also quite angry at him, he had let his noble attitude get the better of him, and now he was going to die for it...

The Doctor was moving through the dark corridors of first-class slowly and quietly. He was waving the Sonic Screwdriver around as he did so, it was letting off a slow-paced radar-like sound, like that heard in a military-grade submarine.

He was tracking an energy signature let off by a Collector teleport, he assumed it was Gillenti who was careless enough to leave the device active. And even it it wasn't, the energy signature he was tracing would surely lead him to a Collector, maybe he'd be able to convince that new Collector to give him the teleport? If he had the teleport, he could then find the Collector ship's exact location and beam himself up too it. He would then retrieve the TARDIS and pilot it down to Clara, if all went to plan.

A slow, deep rumbling sound shook the ship, the Doctor could feel the vibrations through the carpeted floor. A small, empty cradle rolled down the slightly titled corridor, looking at it made the Doctor feel slightly melancholy.

Following the sound of the Sonic Screwdriver, the Doctor rounded a corner. At this point the beeps were becoming more frequent. After walking down another corridor and rounding yet another corner, he found a door. It was the same door that led to the room that housed the Collector teleport's energy signatures.

The Doctor gripped the brass handle of the polished wooden door and turned it, it was not locked and so the door opened without a hitch.

He tentatively entered the room, pocketing the Sonic Screwdriver as he did so. The room was darkened, which meant the Doctor could see nothing but the shadowy silhouettes of the furniture and objects.

He groped the air, eventually finding a wall and, leading on from that, a light switch. He flicked it and squinted slightly as the room was thrown away from the gloom of darkness.

He could now clearly see the rooms' contents, it gave the impression the rest of first class did, but on a much smaller scale. Beautiful silk sheets covered the large bed, the room was carpeted in red, and several authentic oil paintings of a biblical style lined the walls. He walked past the bed, turning his head to see the huddled figure of Raphael Gillenti.

Gillenti was sitting hunched over on the carpeted floor. The Doctor quietly approached him, but it was clear Gillenti was aware of his presence.

In a raspy, gurgling tone akin to that used by most Collector's, Gillenti turned to the Doctor, asking him a question. "Why are you here? You should be dead or dying by now..."

The Doctor adjusted his bow-tie and replied in a soft tone. "Well, Time-Lords have fortunate knack for survival, not even the Daleks could kill all of them..."

"For other races, it is annoying..." Gillenti sneered at the Doctor in a threatening manner, like a wounded animal trying to scare off its' prey.

The Doctor hesitated before deciding not to reply at all. He wasn't quite sure how to handle Gillenti, a Collector can be especially dangerous when it's emotions got the better of it. He decided to wait for Gillenti, or, more specifically, the Collector inside him, to reply.

"Why... W-Why are you here?" Gillenti asked.

"I'm here for the teleport, the one you have attached to your wrist. The one with the co-ordinates to your ship... I-"

Gillenti finished his sentence for him. "I know why you want it, you seek to take the ultimate prize of my salvage group, a working TARDIS. It is my greatest achievement, it is worth more then this whole ship, we could leave right now if we wanted and still make one hell of a profit."

The Doctor thought it safe to raise his voice slightly. "Then why haven't you? Why haven't you activated that wrist teleport and beamed yourself up to the mother ship containing all your Collector pals. I assume they are waiting the Titanic out, waiting for it to sink to the bottom of the Atlantic so they can strip it fresh of any valuables. But then, why are you still here? Why are you still assuming the role of an Italian Crime Boss? You could be stripping apart the TARDIS by now, why are risking your life for no reason?"

Gillenti's vocal cords strained, his voice began to take on the more snarly tones of an angry Collector. "There is a reason!" He snapped back, before continuing "It... It wasn't my choice..." He paused for a moment before elaborating "The teleport doesn't have enough power for a return journey to the ship, it's not dead but it's fuel cells are two thirds of the way to depletion. My comrades could supply me with more but that would require the use of some vital power from the ship and, well, they aren't willing to risk their lives for me. They're just going to leave me here to die." He paused for another brief moment, before yelling "COWARDS!"

The Doctor took a step back in fright, an angry Collector was a very dangerous thing indeed. He waited for Gillenti too calm down, before replying. "So, they abandoned you after you attached the beacon to the TARDIS... I'm sorry Gillenti, really. But please, couldn't you at-least give me the teleport? I can't save you, but, what good will it do for you now?"

Gillenti shook his head, before raising a gun to it in a sudden movement. It was a pistol, of the classic American variant used in the early 1900s. The Doctor raised his hands in an automatic and defensive movement, replying as he did so. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Gillenti poked the pistol's barrel deep into his own temple in a subtle, trembling movement as he replied. "As you said, you can't save me, and I do not wish to drown in the same water as those filthy apes... I may as well just take my own life, it is the only way..."

The Doctor shook his head and waved his arms around in a desperate attempt to convince Gillenti to spare his own life. But it was no use, Gillenti had made up his mind...

He spoke to the Doctor, in the same smooth and polite tone he had used while impersonating Gillenti. "I walked behind him, I slit his throat and took his skin. I took his memories, his thoughts, his body, his wife... I took everything he ever had, I collected it, and I wore it, displayed it like a trophy. I deserve a long and painful death, but I will be the decider of my fate..."  
The Doctor was practically pleading to Gillenti now. "No, stop! Gillenti, just stop!"

Gillenti raised his voice to the gurgle of a tone he had used before. "THAT'S NOT MY NAME! That is the name of the man I murdered, the man whose body I used for my own gain. You don't understand, Doctor, but it feels wrong, so wrong... It's worse then killing, and it deserves a punishment worse then exile..."

"No, you deserve to live out the rest of your life away from the people who made you do this. I can take you away from this place, I can find you a place in time and space to exist peacefully if you let me! All you need to do is be patient and give me the teleport." The Doctor knelt down to Gillenti's height and outstretched one hand.

Gillenti did not give in to the Doctor's pleas, instead, his trembling hands remained on the trigger of the gun as he spoke. "Tell me, Doctor... You have lived so long, you must have watched hundreds of people come and go, live and die. As a Time-Lord, you must have seen, even produced so much chaos... Haven't you, in a thousand years of living, haven't you ever considered just ending it all?"

The Doctor thought about this for awhile, before slowly replying. "Yes... Yes I have. Believe me I have. Time-Lords live a long time by galactic standards as well, so believe me I understand. There have been times where I have been lonely, wallowing in my own anger. And yes, in those times, I have considered that way out. Because living is hard, and death is easy. But you know what I did then? I found someone, someone who brightened my day, someone who made me feel alive again. Someone who convinced me to come down from my cloud of sorrow and rejoin the world of the living. That someone saved my life, she kept me alive and she gave me something worth living for, something worth fighting for. She's not the first to do that, I'm making a habit of it. And in exchange, I swore to protect her, to never lose her again... But for you, life's too short, so don't bother ending it early. You probably won't get a second chance at this. So why don't you start afresh, hey? Find someone, like I did."

"Someone who knows who I am? It doesn't matter if I change because, the universe won't appreciate it, the universe doesn't care."

In reply, the Doctor just shook his head and closed his eyes. He opened them when Gillenti started speaking again.

"I wonder, you claim to have friends, people that care about you. But yet apparently no-one knows your name. So, I wonder, what is it? Doctor Who, exactly?"

"You have no idea how many times I have been asked that. And here's my final answer: It doesn't matter that I don't have a name. Because I still have an identity, through my actions. And an identity is all I need. And above all... Just please, don't do this, give me the gun." The Doctor flexed his outstretched hand.

Gillenti remained hunched over, the gun pointing to his head for a moment, before removing the weapon from it's position and handing it to the Doctor. He took it gladly, opening the barrel and emptying it of all it's ammunition.

Gillenti then hesitantly stood up, his knees were shaking and he was still covered in glistening sweat brought on by stress. Gillenti then silently plunged one shaky hand into his breast pocket, before retrieving out of it a small wrist teleport. The Doctor took the teleport excitedly, examining it's leather wrist-strap and large, glowing yellow interface.

He then looked up at Gillenti, who turned his back to the Doctor and walked towards the large window that adorned the section of wall closest to the bed. The Doctor felt almost triumphant, he had convinced Gillenti to spare his own life, and at the same time was now in possession of the device he needed to enter the Collector ship.

All of a sudden, an almighty roar shook the room around, the Doctor clutched the bed in surprise. All he could do was watch as Gillenti lurched forward with a scream. He smashed face-first into the window, before toppling through the shattered glass and out of sight.

The Doctor ran forwards to the spot Gillenti had been standing on mere seconds ago. He looked down at the rippling black ocean. He couldn't see anything, instead, he could hear the blood-curdling scream of a Collector as it's life suddenly ended...


	9. Chapter 9: A Battle of Wits

Chapter 9: A Battle of Wits

_I know what you're thinking. 'Two chapters in one day. How is this possible?" Well, basically I had already finished these two chapters before today, all I ha to do was edit them and upload. And it's a weekend, so I've got a lot of time to kill. As always, I don't own Doctor Who and if you enjoy this story but think it could be improved, why not review it and tell me what you think?_

The Doctor solemnly bowed his head as he looked out of the broken window. A chilly breeze swept through it and ruffled his hair.

He ignored it, instead he looked down at the teleport and began to strap it to his wrist, flicking it's many switches and buttons. As he worked, the image of Gillenti threatening to kill himself frequently popped back into his mind.

He decided to ignore the depressing mental image and the fact Gillenti had just died and focus on the teleport. He pressed another small button before taking out the Sonic Screwdriver and boosting the teleports' signal with it. The teleport flashed green in apparent appreciation, the Doctor flicked one more switch before holding it up in the air and smashing his hand onto the large, glowing yellow interface. In a burst of yellow light, he was gone...

The leader of the Collector's was standing in-front of the ships' primary control panel. The control panel was made out of smooth metal in some places, but patches of roughness dominated it. The panel was curved and the interface consisted of several buttons and touch screens that glowed a harsh yellow. The whole panel was a complex mixture of termite-like natural engineering and more high-end metal machinery.

The same could be said for the rest of the room he was standing in. It was glowing a sterile white colour, but chunks of the wall and floor was covered in strange plant-like growths that glowed a series of bioluminescent colours. The room was rather large, it was a rectangular shape where the leader was standing but opened up into a raised, circular section further on.

The leader was flanked on the right and left by three other Collector's. They were all sitting in white metal chairs and were operating several of the ship's systems via control panels. As they worked, a faint clicking and hissing sound could be heard.

The three crew members all looked similar, they were a mixture of dark green, grey and brown colours and they all operated the equipment with clawed hands' and scaled arms akin to that of a insect.  
Their heads were smooth and large, they were in the shape of a triangle with curved edges, much like a Triceratops's frill. Their face consisted of little but four glowing green eyes and a small mouth that contained a set of rotten, green teeth. Their backs were muscular, they were adorned with strong, beetle-like wings that enabled them to fly out of danger. Their legs were much like their arms, only the feet were claw-like and contained two bony toes followed by a stout heel.

The leader looked much like the others' only he was more large and hunched-over. Several small arms extended from his back, they were hinged in all the wrong places.

One of the lesser Collectors' turned around in his chair to speak to the leader. "He have detected a life sign coming towards us at the speed of light. It is flanked by a flow of teleportation energy. I think it is a our disguised comrade..."

"No, it can't be, the signal has to be boosted to reach us now, there is no way he could do that without sonic technology..." The leader began tapping buttons with his claw-like hands rapidly.

He was interrupted by the same Collector, he looked down at him from the raised platform he was standing as he spoke. "He has access to our comm-channels, whoever he is." The Collector sounded slightly worried.

As if on cue, an energetic voice rang through the ship's speakers. "I have access to your comm-channels because I have access to one of your teleports and I have boosted said teleports' signals with, yes, 'Sonic Technology'."

The leader responded into the microphone in-front of him with a hiss and a snarl, followed by the faint clicking sound.

"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm the Doctor." The voice replied, it seemed delighted at the leader's fury.

He expected a reaction from at-least one more of them, that reaction never came, so he continued with the introductions. "You may also know me by my many other alias's, including the Predator of the Daleks and the Oncoming Storm. Your scanners may also think I'm dead, don't worry, I'm not offended, I get that a lot these days..."

The leader could feel the energy from the teleportation device crack and sizzle behind him. He turned around and loudly began to growl at the tall, queer, bow-tie wearing figure standing behind him, on the slightly raised, circular section.

The other three Collector's had turned around in their chairs to look at the Doctor, after they saw him, they too joined the leader in the snarling and growling. The Doctor wasn't sure whether they were snarling at him in anger or if they were trying to scare him off before he pressed a button or fiddled with a switch, he had a tendency to do that and they knew it.

He decided to not wait until their group snarling session was finished and instead he began to work on the wrist teleport once again, re-calibrating the co-ordinates and prepping it for another journey.

The leader stopped hissing at the Doctor and began to speak. "You are trying to find that TARDIS we picked up? You won't be able to get it to it using that device, it's run out of energy and we're not giving you a power cell..."

The Doctor slyly retorted, if they weren't prepared to negotiate, neither was he, he just wanted to get the TARDIS and get back to Clara. "I don't want one of your precious power cells. Furthermore, I don't need one. This device is compatible with wireless sonic technology which is why it leaves a traceable energy signature. I'm using this..." He took out the Sonic Screwdriver and waved it in front of the Collector's glowing eyes, before using it on the wrist teleport and continuing "... To boost the power, how do you think I got here?"

The leader snarled once more at the Doctor. The Doctor looked up at him to notice one clawed hand was being placed on his holstered blaster. The Leader responded in the same growling tone he had used before. "Even if you have managed to get that thing working again fully you can't use it to get to your precious TARDIS. You don't have this ships schematics."

The Doctor responded by waving the Sonic Screwdriver at the screens behind the Collector's, before flicking it up and checking the readings. "The TARDIS is located at the end of the first corridor leading into floor two, cargo hold B-Alpha." The Doctor smirked as he spoke, before pocketing the Sonic and looking up at the Collector's.

The Leader attempted to counter his comment once again, his voice was laced with tones of disparity. "That device isn't accurate enough to hop between spots on this ship, it's intended for long distance travel..."

The Doctor waited for the next bout of snarling to stop before he continued "Now, fellas, there is one thing you should know about me, excluding the fact that I have two hearts and am 1000 years old. And that is that I have very, very good accuracy with teleports..." With this is smashed his hand down upon the main button and disappeared from the Collector's sight in a flash of yellow energy.

"Where is he? WHERE IS HE?! Do a scan. FIND HIM!" The Leader yelled at the other three, they immediately nodded and turned back to their monitors, tapping buttons and flicking switches with remarkable speed.

But their work was cut short by the Doctor, his gleeful voice was echoing through the ship's speakers. "...Just ask the Daleks, I've done this sort of thing before."

The Leader breathed in heavily before bellowing in a fury of growls and snarls. "Where are you, Doctor?! WHERE ARE YOU!?"

The Doctor remained calm, he was rather enjoying out-smarting his enemy. "I'm on-board the TARDIS, using it's communication matrix to hack your speakers and talk to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a friend to save..."

The Doctor cut the communication and began to plot the TARDIS's next course. It was going to be hard, finding Clara amidst all the wreckage and other survivors and then finding a spot to land close to her position, but he felt he was up to the challenge.

The Doctor flicked one final switch and held on as the TARDIS dematerialised, smiling at the thought of the Leader's fury right now and how he must be feeling, having been out-witted so easily, he was probably bellowing at the others to re-activate the shields, but it was too late now. The Collectors were nothing but scavengers at the moment but sometime, soon maybe, they would retake the Kafher region, and the Collector empire would rise again... The Doctor enjoyed being able to defeat an enemy so easily, but he doubted the same technique would work against a whole fleet of Collector ships.

He flicked a switch connected to the monitor and began to scan for Clara. She was on a life boat with several other people so she was definitely still alive, he just hoped she would stay that way long enough for him to find her and take her on-board the TARDIS. She could hold on, she would hold on, the Doctor knew that, Clara was tough. And whatever happened, whatever lengths he had to go to, he _would_ save her. He wasn't going to lose her a third time...


	10. Chapter 10: The New World

Chapter 10: The New World

Jane Bates leaned on her daughters' shoulder, sobbing as she did so. She had just lost her husband of 20 years, he was forced by several security guards to remain in the ship, he was surely dead by now...

She looked up, teary eyed, at the slowly rippling black ocean in-front of her. The waters' surface was dotted with several lifeboats, but the majority of people she was sharing the ocean with were clinging to wreckage and astray furniture. Some were dead, their lifeless corpses slowly sinking to the ocean floor, others were screaming and flailing in the freezing cold. In the distance, the great, unsinkable ship was slowly turning on it's side and falling beneath the surface of the Atlantic, as it sank, it let out a deep and almighty rumble. The sound had an air of finality to it.

Jane looked away from the horrific scene in-front of her, as she refused leaning on her daughter's shoulder, she looked over at the other girl in the boat. She was no more then 26 years old, with dark brown hair that fell onto her face, and was lying on the wooden surface of the boat. Jane had been too busy wallowing in her own emotional pain previously to really notice her, but she knew she had fallen into a deep sleep not long ago.

The screams of the dying and widowed were broken by a strange, alien, wheezing-and-groaning sound that was unlike anything Jane had heard before. It was accompanied by unearthly gusts if wind that blew her hair in all directions and dried the salty tears that clung to her face. Jane, the young man she was sharing the lifeboat with and her daughter all looked intriguingly at the direction it seemed to be coming from.

A large piece of now-rusted metal had fallen off the ship's hull during the collision, now it was footing next to their lifeboat. The sound and accompanying breeze was coming from that direction.

Jane, the young man and Jane's daughter all watched in shock as a strange, blue box materialised in-front of them, literally out of thin air.

At first it looked a ghostly, translucent apparition, but then it solidified and became a whole object. Jane jumped as the door opened, before watching as a strange, bow-tie-and-Victorian-overcoat wearing young man walked out of the box. He stood on the metal tentatively before crossing over to the rickety wooden lifeboat. He knelt down and placed one hand on the sleeping girl's cheek, before wrapping his arms around her waist and shoulders and carefully picking her up. He carried her out of the lifeboat, across the floating metal and into the box. As he did this, he barely glanced at the boats' remaining occupants.

The three of them watched in bewilderment as the man went to close the door to the box, before suddenly opening it again. He stuck his slightly bruised head out of the door and looked around at the scene that was unfolding all around him with a grave look on his face. Before carefully stepping out onto the metal once more and reaching a hand out to Jane, her daughter and the young, tuxedo-wearing, man.

He made a slight gesture with his outstretched hand to all of them, before saying, in a reassuring voice. "Come with me."

After the the standard 'it's bigger on the inside' and 'what the hell is this?' Comments got out of the way the Doctor landed the TARDIS and opened the doors, explaining to his new passengers as he did so. "Outside those doors is a new world, a new land, a land of opportunity... Some people died today chasing the dream, you've cornered it and now it's your turn to live it."

He gestured towards the opened doors as he walked slowly backwards towards them, before turning around on the spot and flinging them open fully, exclaiming loudly as he did so. "Ladies and gentleman, I present to you: New York! The one and only!" The trio slowly walked past him and out of the opened doors.

The Doctor wished them luck with their new lives "So, good luck, get a well-paying job and, whatever you do, don't resort to working in he sewers in about..." He checked his watched before continuing "...18 years time, you might run into strange things down there." He shook hands with the man and hugged the women before closing the doors and walking back to the console.

When he got to the hexagonal configuration of control panels, he began flicking switches, pulling levers and checking readings as the time rotor rose and fell in a rhythm.

Once the ship had entered the gentle sphere of non-existence that was the time vortex, the Doctor relinquished control of the TARDIS and began simply leaning on the console as he mulled things over. He thought about the rifts in space Gillenti had mentioned, what were they? How had they come to be? What did he mean when he said he could hear 'familiar voices' through them? Could they have some connection to the Collector's? It was an intriguing mystery indeed, and the Doctor did love a mystery, that was partially the reason he had invited Clara to travel with him.

The last time he had encountered cracks in time, they had followed him throughout his travels, he actually hoped they would do the same this time.

He looked over at Clara, she was lying on the leather seat, she appeared to still be sound asleep. But the most important thing was, she was okay, no harm and come to her.

He was grateful for that but unfortunately the same couldn't be said for himself. He was covered in sore points and bruises and several areas were still bleeding. And his clothes still hadn't completely dried after the royal soaking they had received in the third-class security office. He walked over and knelt down to Clara's position, her dress was torn and damp in some places but other then that she was in much better shape then the Doctor.

He then ducked off to the TARDIS's kitchen, before returning with a stool, a plate of delicious Jammie Dodgers and two mugs of warm tea. He placed the stool next to her, followed by the plate of Jammie Dodgers. He then placed one of the mugs of tea on the stool, keeping one for himself, slowly sipping it as he checked readings on the monitor.

His concentration on the readings was broken by Clara's voice. She spoke softly "Thank-you."

He turned around on the spot, replying in the process. "For what?"

"Saving me, and saving them..."

The Doctor tried to make sense of what she said. "Wait... What? Were you?" He stuttered and stammered as he spoke.

Clara nodded her head while she replied "Yep, I was awake. That was a very nice thing you did there, although it wasn't unexpected."

She flung the blanket off herself and stood up, walking closer to him as she continued. "Because that's what you do, you're the Doctor, you save people." She stood right in-front of him, reaching her hands up to his neck and straightening his damp, sagging bow-tie. He smiled at her, she smiled back, before pulling him into a passionate hug that seemed to last forever.

Clara rested her yea son his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around her waist, closing his eyes and allowing the moment to soak in.

When they finally broke apart, Clara spoke again. "Well, it's good to see you got the TARDIS back. Even though I'm still not convinced she likes me..."

The Doctor waved a dismissive hand at her. "Oh, don't be silly of course she likes you. You do, don't you dear?" His the during that sentence as one of affection. He gently rubbed his hand on the metallic surface of the console during it.

Clara kept going with the questions. "So, what'll happen to those people you saved?"

Leaning on the console, the Doctor replied. "They'll continue on with their lives. They'll laugh, work, cry, smile, frown... They'll live. And they'll never forget, they'll tell the story of how they survived and the sacrifices their friends and family made to their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Because, although you can't change history in major ways sometimes you can... Cheat. Sometimes, by changing history in subtle ways you do something major." He finished with a smile and began pressing buttons on the console once more. As he did this, he asked "So, where to next?"

Clara swallowed her current mouthful of Jammie Dodger with the aid of a sip of tea before replying. "Oh, I don't know... Ask the book?"

"Worked before, it'll work again." The Doctor pulled one lever before enthusiastically running up the stairs.

He was, however stopped by Clara. "Doctor? What happened to the Collectors? Where are they now?"

The Doctor turned around and answered. "When I was on-board their ship I had a bit of a fiddle with their FTL drive en-route to the TARDIS. That particular band of them can no longer enter Earth space because of me." He then turned around and picked up '101 Places to See', flicking through the pages with interest.

Clara, meanwhile took another sip of the tea before placing the mug down on the stool and glancing at the TARDIS monitor, it was showing an image of what appeared to a glowing, crack-like fissure. This image, for some reason, gave Clara a slight headache, she rubbed her eyes as her body protested "Ugh..."

Noticing this, the Doctor looked up from the book and asking her in a caring tone. "Is everything alright?"

Clara looked up at him, replying. "Yeah, it's just... What I did while you were talking to Gillenti... I-I can't... Remember, what I did."

This worried the Doctor deeply, he looked down at her with a grave look on her face. Her tied-up brown hair was falling onto her face, she looked like she had seen something ghastly but, as she had said, she couldn't remember what she had seen...

Who was Clara? He really didn't know, he liked her, whoever she was. She was smart and brave and funny and beautiful but... But he had met her before and she had died twice, how was that possible? And now she couldn't remember exactly what she had done after she took the Sonic Screwdriver and ran with it.

There was only one thing the Doctor was certain about, and that was the fact that this mystery was going to be a very complicated one...

_So, there you have it, folks, the final chapter of 'A Night To Remember'. When I started this story just a few weeks ago I never anticipated it would be this popular. Thanks to everyone who favourited, followed and, of course, reviewed! Thanks to you and your continued support 'Mad-Man In a Box' has become 'Mad-Mad In a Box Productions' with a logo and an Instagram account and everything! It's also thanks to you that I'll be continuing this series of adventures over the next few months. The Collectors and their storyline will continue to appear over the course of the next two stores, which will then be followed by a big, epic season finale! So, once again, thanks for reading and I'll see you next time in story #2, which is titled 'Next Stop: Everywhere!' You can stay updated by following my Instagram account at 'mad_man_in_a_box_productions' or by following me as an author on this very site!_


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